


Behind the Veil

by CrowleyGirl



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyGirl/pseuds/CrowleyGirl
Summary: The Shire is not what it seems to be. Gondorian men have overtaken it in their search for mithril, hobbits have been reduced to slaves. When Thorin and Co. go to get Bilbo, difficulties arise.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the prompt I did about a year or so ago. I reached a certain point where I had no idea where it was going, so I took a lot of time off and came back with an actual plot. This is going to be 8 chapters long including this one. :) Prompt can be found on the Hobbit Fan fiction Challenge Community.

Ch.1  
In the Blue Mountains:  
"Hobbits are fat, notoriously lazy creatures not worth mentioning in this book.”  
Dwalin raised one bushy eyebrow in disbelief, snatching the book Kili was reading from and looking at it for himself, "Come on laddie, does it really say that?" He read the line, chuckling.  
Kili, tired from a long day of researching, grabbed the book back from Dwalin’s hands and said, "Well, this is called The Best History Book Ever Written."  
His brother, Fili, huffed and tucked his own book back in the sparsely stocked shelf it came from, "Some dwarves can be so stuck-up." His book, with nothing to lean against, fell over.  
“Says you,” Kili laughed, clocking his older sibling over the head, a common form of affection between the two. Fili gave him his customary warning glare that promised a thrashing if Kili touched him again. "Anyways, we're not learning much here are we?" Kili continued. The young dwarf had started the research sitting up against a shelf, but had gradually moved down until he was laying flat on the floor holding the book open over his head.  
Thrusting some neatly-stacked books to the side, Dwalin joined Kili on the floor, albeit a little more stiffly, "Kili's right, this whole thing's been rather useless"  
"Was not!" Fili insisted as he dusted off the book Dwalin had abandoned, "My book was much more informative."  
Dwalin ignored him and began to look around the numerous shelves from his position on the floor, "I never thought I'd be in a library again. Erebor had quite a big one I remember, Balin used to drag me in and force me to read."  
"Balin used to be able to drag you?" Kili said, trying to imagine the thick, muscular Dwalin being dragged down halls by the shorter and somewhat-less-impressive Balin.  
"Only for a few years," Dwalin assured him. A silence settled over them until a crash and startled yell a few isles over alerted them to another dwarf who had found the library challenging.  
Fili snorted in his big, superior brother way, "Let's not get off topic, alright?"  
Kili nodded, paused, and then asked, "Which was?"  
Fili rolled his eyes, which he did a lot around Kili, "You remember Kili. Hobbits."  
"Oh, yeah."  
"So we found only three books on the subject, and two of them had the exact same entries." Fili went over while organizing the three books alphabetically in their shelf. They immediately fell over again. "Well, at least we learned something,"  
"Yeah," Kili said, shifting so he could lean back on one of the rarely used cushions scattered around the room, "I learned that books are more boring than I remember."  
Dwalin furrowed his brow, "Hobbits don't sound anything like burglars."  
"After all," Kili joked, "they aren't good enough for The Best History Book Ever Written," He held up the book and shook it while grinning at Fili, who simply rolled his eyes. His mother was always telling him that if he rolled his eyes at every ridiculous thing Kili did they were going to get stuck at the back of his head.  
Trying to be serious, Fili rescued the book from Kili, "This book is not accurate in any way and the author probably died by falling down his own stairs."  
"Despite all the stupidity, what it said was kind of what all the other books said," Dwalin reminded him.  
Fili sighed, "You're right, whatever they're like, Hobbits don't sound like burglars suitable enough to go on our quest. Are you sure that you heard right Kili?"  
Hearing his name, Kili looked up and nodded, "My eavesdropping skills are as good as ever. In the meeting, Gandalf said that he had chosen a Hobbit of the Shire to be our fourteenth companion. Then again, maybe Gandalf's gone mad? He always looked a bit loopy to me."  
"Nah," Dwalin shook his head, "Thorin wouldn't be putting so much trust in him if he was crazy."  
“Birds of the feather," Kili muttered, dodging Fili's fist.  
Dwalin huffed, tired of their arguing and frustrated that they had found nothing, and stood up, "Well if it's not too much trouble, I am going to finish some important matters that need to be taken care of."  
Kili watched as the older dwarf left, "Probably only came so we wouldn't destroy the library. Why do we need a fourteenth person anyways?"  
“You wouldn’t leave with just thirteen!” Fili said, shocked.  
"Why not?" Kili asked, hugging a cushion to his chest, "It's just a number, no one really believes in that stuff anymore."  
“Just a number!" Fili shook his head in disbelief, "It's the most unlucky number of all! Surely you know that? Prince Duclain of the Iron Hills left with thirteen and they were all eaten by wargs in the forests."  
Kili shrugged, "I just don't get why that matters. And if it does, why did Thorin let Gandalf choose anyway? We could have brought Gimli."  
"I think he insisted. Uncle Thorin hasn't told me much yet; he said to wait until we're at the burglar's house."  
Kili understood, Thorin rarely let his plans out in the open, and they trusted him enough to go along with what he asked of them. He was the King, after all.  
Both brothers left the library, arms on each other's shoulders, talking enthusiastically about the adventure before them, not yet realizing that their adventure would start much sooner than they thought.  
252525252525252525252525252  
The Shire:  
In a house on a hill, there lived a Hobbit. This particular Hobbit was nothing special; he had furry feat, a full head of brown curls, and friendly brown eyes. His house was unlike other Hobbit's because while other Hobbits usually lived in holes in the sides of the hills that spotted the Shire, this Hobbit lived in a huge house on top of one of those hills. This Hobbit's name was Bilbo Baggins and he lived in this house with his gardener, Hamfast. Well, Hamfast and some others that really don't need to be mentioned just quite yet in this part of the story.  
Something was wrong with the Shire, something had been wrong for quite a long time. It didn't really look wrong from the outside, and it didn't even seem wrong in some parts of the inside. But it smelled wrong and felt wrong and even sounded wrong in some places. Although Bilbo wasn't terribly concerned since this wrongness didn't really affect him, but he did try to help out every now and then. It made him feel better about living right next to the wrongness but not being touched. His efforts were appreciated somewhat by the hobbits smothered in the wrongness. That made him happy. He didn't like seeing, or smelling, or feeling wrong in any way.   
Besides all the wrong, life was going pretty good for him on that house on a hill, high above the holes and rickety shelters that reeked of wrongness. His gardener kept him company and the house was incredibly comfortable. He ate good food and socialized with other people who weren't touched by the Wrong (most of those people didn't even try to help; this also made him feel better.) Everything was fine, but every story has the beginning where everything is fine. And then they have that unfine moment where everything goes wrong. Bilbo's unfine event was the appearance of a wizard in a grey cloak and pointy hat. The wizard appeared one chance morning at his doorstep and Bilbo did not understand because the wizard seemed completely unfazed by the wrongness around him.  
"Would you like to share in an adventure?"


	2. Chapter Two

Ch.2  
After passing the giant oak tree that stood on top of a hill, Balin and Dwalin were truly lost. Neither had been to the Shire before so they had both been given detailed instructions on how to get to the burglar's house. Unfortunately, these instructions had begun at the entrance to the Shire, so they didn’t have any idea how to get to the actual Shire and the vague map Gandalf had given them wasn’t helping all that much. The only landmark they could see on the map was some big thing that was only a line on the map. The map didn’t have a key or any inscription on it, but Balin was sure it was a wall or something. However, Gandalf had not mentioned a wall (or anything else for that matter.) Dwalin said it looked like a line of trees. Either way, they didn’t know if they could make it to the Hobbit burglar's house on time. Or how the rest of the dwarves would.  
They decided to take a little break by the oak tree and try to figure out a way to go about finding the Shire and getting to the glowing mark Gandalf had said he had left behind on the burglar’s door.  
“If he even did," Dwalin muttered in a demeaning tone, "I'd say the wizard meant for us to get lost for all that he told us."  
Balin, always the one to look for the best in people, gave his younger but not young brother a stern look and went back to discussing their problem. As Balin talked, Dwalin's mind drifted away from the one-sided conversation and he began to drift off to the back of his mind. He started to go over the different battle tactics they might need to use in their journey. It had been years since he had needed such things; he needed to be ready for the enemies along the road and those at the end of it. He had long dreamed of going back to Erebor. The idea that he could finally return exited him beyond belief. Thorin's talks about overtaking Smaug were inspiring, but he knew that a lot more than talk would be needed.   
“Dwalin! Dwalin! Are you... Oh, never mind." His brother's voice chastised his distraction.  
“I'm listening, Balin," he lied, “Just got sidetracked for that last sentence.”  
Balin sighed and repeated his sentence, “I said that I think I found this hill on the map.”  
Dwalin scrambled across and peered over Balin’s shoulder, “Really?”  
“I think it’s that curvy line right there, which means…” he drew his hand up to the right, “That is where we need to go.” His finger pointed a little more South than East, but still in between.   
Accepting his brother’s word as true, Dwalin swept up the gear that he had preciously dumped on the ground, “Well, we better be going before it’s dark. Don’t want to be late for dinner, do we?” His old humor returned as they set off to the right.  
2525252525252525  
A few hours later, the two dwarves arrived at the strange line on the map that blocked them from their destination. In reality, the line appeared to be a huge wall that towered far above the dwarves’ heads with one towering gate. It seemed that Balin’s guess was true, although neither dwarf had been expecting a barrier of this magnitude. The entire thing was made from smooth limestone and reached maybe ten meters tall. From what Balin could see, the walls stretched around the entire Shire. They stood a few feet back, looking up at the side; neither Gandalf nor Thorin had mentioned anything like this.  
“Blasted wizards,” Dwalin had muttered upon seeing the sheer size of the wall and gate, “You would have thought he would warn us about this… thing. Well, no use complaining now, what should we do Balin? Knock? Or would it be more polite to shout?”  
Balin, who was not quite sure how to handle this situation, wasn’t appreciating Dwalin’s angry humor, “I don’t know what to do. From what Thorin told me, Hobbits couldn’t make such a thing, not by themselves. Nor would they need to, being such peaceful creatures and living so far out. Also, this looks like the work of Man to me.” Both of them were well trained in stonework and such things, and could easily tell the difference between the structures of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.  
“Aye, I’ll agree with you there. Definitely the product of Man, but according to the map the nearest village with Men is many days of travel off. Why would a wall of this size be here? And when was it built?”  
The top of the battlements, where guards would usually be, were strangely empty. No one seemed to be on look out, Hobbit or otherwise. Both dwarves stood there staring up at the wall and wondering what they should do.  
“Maybe we should wait for Fili and Kili.” Balin suggested after a while, “Wouldn’t mind having the lads along for…backup or something. This place gives me chills and we haven’t even seen the inside.”  
Dwalin consented to waiting for Thorin’s kin. “Probably good to be cautious for once in our lives,” He reasoned, rather uncharacteristically.   
So they sat down with their backs against the stone wall, the top still strangely absent of guards. It was silent, not even a bird chirped. This added to Balin’s discomfort and he found himself anticipating the younger pair of brothers’ arrival.   
Must be growing old, He thought.   
Dwalin, on the other hand, was pulling grass out of the ground and twisting it until it broke like he was still a dwarfling. Of course he would be the brother who seemed to never age.  
It wasn’t long before Balin could hear Fili and Kili. Per usual, he overheard them arguing before he even saw them, their annoyed-but-not-really voices echoing among the many small hills that seemed to be everywhere.  
“Kili, I know that we’re close!” That was Fili’s deep, reassuring big brother voice.  
“No we aren’t! See that line there? Where is that, may I ask?” Apparently both of them were too engrossed in arguing they couldn’t see the huge wall right in front of them.  
“Kili. It’s. Right. There.” Fili had put on his Kili-you-are-an-idiot voice. He seemed to have a lot of different voices. Most of them revolved around Kili.  
Kili’s mutter reply couldn’t be heard, but Balin could finally see them coming over the top of a hill. It would be hard to tell they were brothers if one didn’t know them. Their looks were as different as night and day. Fili had inherited his father’s deep golden locks and serious attitude, much like a great, golden lion. Kili, however, was Dis’s mirror image. His dark brown curls were almost always messy and he acted more like an excited puppy than a regal lion. Not that Balin would ever repeat that allegory out loud. Fili had Thorin’s bearing and sharp gaze while Kili was practically skipping along, looking at every new thing with endless enthusiasm.   
Dwalin hailed them with a loud shout and Kili waved back, grinning widely, while Fili simply nodded. They joined them at the wall’s gate a few minutes later. Greeting their elders only after they had spent quite a while gazing up at the wall.  
“Well,” Balin said, “Do you think we should knock?”  
Fili was the one to reply, “There don’t seem to be many people around, do you think anyone would answer?”  
“It is really quiet, the birds stopped chirping quite a ways back” Kili agreed, “Isn’t this the work of Man? I didn’t know that they had come this far east.”  
Dwalin, never one to wait, spoke up, “Well, might as well go forward, no use sitting here and speculating about what is ahead.”  
The other dwarves agreed and followed Dwalin past uneven clumps of withered dandelions to directly in front of the gate. The musty smell of oak wafted from the wide gateway; Balin’s trained eye picked out the rust on the joints of the bolts attached to the stone wall. For such an impressive size, the gate wasn’t in the best condition.  
“One good hit with a ‘ram would send that contraption down. Not exactly a great way to keep people out,” commented Dwalin.  
“But look at those bolts. The way they’re made there are heavy iron bars on this side instead of on the inside, it’s almost as if it was created to keep people in instead of out.” Kili observed, pointing one gloved finger to the rusty bolts Balin had seen before.   
“He’s right,” Fili said, “This gate doesn’t seem to be designed to protect the people inside, it looks more like a prison door. Are we going in?”  
Balin nodded, and in that moment, the gate before them began to creak open. It was obvious that it hadn’t done so in a while, the rusty bolts creating a grating sound rather like nails on chalkboard. As it slowly opened, the dwarves peered inside and caught a glimpse of the people pulling the chains that opened the door. They were definitely Men.   
Once the door was completely opened, a group of the men approached the dwarves. Three of them were dressed in what looked like guard uniforms while the fourth was clad in more informal clothes. The fourth was in the front and was the obvious leader.  
“My dear Sirs,” The man began, “I must apologize for our lack of a welcome, it has been nigh a year since we have had any sort of visitor here. Much less Dwarves.” His voice was smooth and had a Western accent that Balin usually associated with Gondorians.  
Balin, after waving Dwalin’s hand away from his axe, stepped forward, “Apology accepted, we have had yet to see another soul since Bree, two days back. Let me introduce ourselves: I am Balin son of Fundin and these are my companions, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili.”  
“My name is Baradaur (doomed day) son of Baradcarth (doomed deed). Please, you are welcome inside. We are a peaceful city.” The man, Baradaur, replied. He gestured towards the city with his hand before turning and walking back with the guards. Satisfied with Baradaur’s response, Balin followed.  
“If I may ask, what need do you have of such a wall?” Balin asked Baradaur, “This seems such a peaceful land, it seems a bit much.”  
Baradaur answered quickly, “We have no need of it during the warm seasons, in these times it is much of an inconvenience. However, during the winter months, the lakes separating us from the Wild Lands usually freeze over. During that time, wolves and other such creatures find their way over. We’ve found this wall to be the best protector, even if it is a bit extreme.”  
Balin nodded, although the answer sounded a bit fake to him, “A wall of that magnitude must have taken a long time to build, how long has it been there.”  
“A few years, not too long though.”  
They entered the city, passing under the poorly constructed gate and treading on decorative stonework. As Kili had noticed, the iron bolts were placed on the wrong side of the door. As the gate closed, Balin remembered the rest of their company.  
“We have a few more coming this way, if you would be so kind as to keep a watch for them.” He told Baradaur, “They’ll most likely be altogether.”  
Baradaur nodded and ordered two of the guards to wait by the gate. Balin bowed his head in thanks. After taking care of his company, Balin had time to look around. The inside of the city was drastically different from what the dwarves had expected from the dreary outside. The small hills were consistent but someone had leveled out parts of them to make way for a central road. Stone houses rose up against the hills with some of them even being built into the grassy mounds. Bright green grass grew everywhere around the stone buildings. It was rich and thick with flowers peppering it at random intervals.   
Over to his left were multiple fruit orchards. Juicy red apples bending the branches they grew on and pears scattered on the ground. Everything looked very well cared after and tended. But some things stood out oddly to Balin. For one, barely any Hobbits were out. Although he had never seen them, Balin could easily recognize the small, bushy-headed creatures. Occasionally one or two would dart out of sheds built around the orchards to get a few tools left on the ground. And another thing, the houses looked far too big for a single Hobbit or even a family of Hobbits. The stone wall buildings were almost mansions and could have held many Men. Balin had noticed this as well as the vastness of the fields and gardens. Along the winding central road, Balin could see little dips where small holes had been dug out in some of the littler hills. The quietness of the place began to give the dwarf chills and he relayed his observations to Dwalin in a whisper so the guards escorting them didn't overhear. Dwalin agreed with him quietly and pulled the Fili and Kili beside him to tell them as well.  
“Yeah, I noticed that something looked a bit odd here,” said Fili, “Gandalf said that this place was only populated by Hobbits, so why do there seem to be only Men around?”  
Dwalin hushed him, “We’ll have plenty of time to ask questions once we get to where ever this Baradaur is taking us.”  
They continued the short walk in silence, Balin trying to gather as much information as he could from his surroundings. Soon, Baradaur turned to speak.  
“We call this our Great Hall,” He gestured toward the building in front of them. The paved road they had been following lead straight up to the doorway.   
This building was different from the others. It appeared more decorative with gold inlays and the stone was polished so much the sun glared off of it.  
“Our Governor lives here, as do all of the guests who find their way here.” Baradaur lead them up to the door, which was promptly opened by two guards. Inside was even more extravagant than the outside. The foyer was bright and circular with a tall ceiling and marble statues along the sides.  
“Where do you get all this stuff?” asked Fili, “This Shire doesn’t have any such resources to create a building like this.”  
Baradaur smiled rather haughtily, “We have a good trade establishment with Gondor and other kingdoms nearer to us. Now the governor is doing business right now and he’ll want to see you as soon as possible. Please wait here until he is ready.” Then he left the room.  
“Well that was rude,” Kili muttered, he then drifted off to look at the statues.  
“This is not what I was expecting,” commented Balin, “We arrive here expecting a small town and find that someone had erected a wall and established a full kingdom.”  
Dwalin agreed with him, “I’m beginning to wonder if Gandalf even knew about this, he did say that it had been a while since he came here. And Valar knows how long ‘a while’ is for a wizard.”  
The two brothers and Fili began discussing what the best course of action would be until, almost half an hour later, the door opened and the rest of the company came crowding in. Thorin arriving last with a disgruntled look on his face.  
“Hey!” Dwalin and Fili shouted as they rushed to greet their kinsmen. By this time Kili had fallen asleep at the foot of one of the statues.  
Balin gave a customary nod of greeting to the other dwarves but headed straight for Thorin, who had brushed off his surprise and was standing regally behind the cluster of dwarves.  
“Thorin, I don’t like this,” Balin admitted after they had caught up, “This place feels wrong.”  
“I know what you mean. That wall outside shouldn’t be there, and neither should these buildings.” Thorin agreed, “These Men are Gondorian and not from the East. They should not be this far South at all. Gandalf may be …aggravating at times, but he would not have sent us here without mentioning this.”  
“I thought the same. Should we continue with finding the burglar? Or shall we carry on our quest alone?”  
“No, we find Gandalf’s burglar. We need the wizard on our side.” Thorin declared, glancing around the room.  
Before Balin could reply, Baradaur reappeared.  
“Our Governor can see you now. Oh, I see the rest of your companions have arrived.” He beaconed them towards the door he had just come through. Thorin, naturally falling into his position of leader, lead the dwarves behind the Man. Baradaur guided them down a long hallway and into another room. The twelve dwarves had a hard time getting through the door, but soon they were all gathered behind Thorin facing the only Man other than Baradaur in the room.  
This new man was dressed richly in regal fur robes not unlike Thorin’s own. He had chestnut brown hair that fell in waves around his shoulders and matched his eyes. Balin had no doubt of this man’s power, it radiated from him much like it did from Thorin.  
Thorin sensed the same feeling as Balin as he bowed his head in a sign of respect. The other dwarves did as their leader did.  
The Man rose from the carven oak chair he had been sitting on and stood directly in front of Thorin. He did not level himself to Thorin’s height, as many rulers did so offensively, but merely stood respectfully as if he recognized the kingly blood that ran in Thorin’s veins.  
“Welcome to the Shire,” He said, “My name is Ecthelion the Second, son of Turgon, Steward of Gondor.”


End file.
